Shadowchaser: the Tale of Pistol Pete
by theNEWanias
Summary: sequel. We last left Peter and Rose in humorous distress. Why? Peter's Shadow has gone missing. So, Peter must find it, but not before he turns pirate himself. And what about Rose...is she on her own path to piracy? And if so, will she remember Peter?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own nothing/no one save for Rose, Amínah, and whtever other characters you haven't heard of.

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Prologue 

I knew it would 'appen one day. I knew…but as if I was 'is mother true, I 'oped and I prayed dat it wouldn't come. So 'ere I stand today on da deck of de Starshine, bobbin' up an' down on dese accursed waves, far from my home upriver. Why? Because I knew…I knew Pe-tah's Shadow would be leavin' 'im soon enough.

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A/n: sorry for how short this is -- I'm still working on the first chapter. Also, this prologue is told from Amínah's point of view. reviews please? much love and happy new year, annie. 


	2. Chapter One

One

Peter and Aiden leaned over the maps together, and so Aiden asked, "Um, Peter, where exactly do you plan on searching first. That is…"

"Where do Shadows go?"

Aiden's brown eyes widened with surprise at Peter's ability to guess. "Yes."

"That's a good question, Aiden my friend. One I'm failing to answer myself." Peter's young eyes were ripened and his face had become a mask. Peter Pan was scared. He was scared that he would never find his Shadow. "Let's come back to these later."

"But Peter,"

"No, no, I think it best _not_ to ruin the festivities." And with that, Peter walked off to stand by his wife, Princess Rose Alle. "Hello, my darling. What do you think?"

"Of what?" she was staring out to sea, gazing longingly at the white horizon; longing for what, Peter wasn't sure of. "The ship? Magnificent. You as Captain Pan? Marvelous." She turned to face him, a look of slight frustration staining her fair skin, "Your fretting over a missing shadow?" There was a pause, and a thickness had begun to hang in the air between the happy couple. "Laughable."

"It's not just a shadow, love." Peter was becoming increasingly irritated with her ignorance. "It's my _Shadow_."

She harrumphed and dragged her self – beautiful gown and all – to the other side of the deck.

"What you fail to see, is that without my Shadow…"

But he was cut off by Mica, who was – as usual – in a panic about something. "Captain Pan, I believe we are ready to cast off. And I do think that if we don't leave now, we'll miss the swell."

Peter sighed, pulling his head down along with his gathering temper. "Fine. Release the mooring line and weigh anchor. Rose," he turned to face his fuming wife, "we'll talk about this later."

♥♡♥

Rose stood in the dead of night, the spray of the sea dampening her dress, the salt in the air forcing her to breathe in deep the scent of the ocean…a smell she never imagined would bring her desire. _Desire for what_, she wondered. She sighed as she looked up to the heavens. "What is it?" she shouted. "What do I want?"

But no answer came to her…at least, not from those blasted stars.

"In a bit of a pinch, Princess?" Dré's voice came floating, wafted across the deck on the wind. When she provided no answer, Peter's First Mate continued, "You're not so sure of old Pete, are you?"

"I'm perfectly sure of my husband, master Dré." She scrunched her nose and turned back to the side rail.

Dré sidled up next to her and looked her straight in the eyes, his own blue orbs a-twinkle. "You know," he said, stretching his arms across the rail and leaning back, head lolling like a rag-doll, "this isn't going to be just another game of pirates. You know. I know you know. And when you finally realize that Pete is in this one for good?" He smirked at her, his eyes sinister and knowing, "You're going to want it. And you're going to want it _bad_."

"Want what?"

"You know." He smiled and left, heading into the crew's quarters for the night and leaving Rose to ponder his accusations.

She squinted at the alarmingly calm ocean in anger, pouting and simmering beneath the moonlight. She let out a sigh and gave in: she still didn't know what she was missing. She had Peter – a boy every girl had hoped for. She had a life. She had immortality…sort of. Youth, at any rate. She walked slowly and silently to the Captain's cabin where Peter would be waiting for her, probably ready to make passionate love to her…as was to be expected. With Peter, it was nothing if not passionate, not to mention endlessly interesting. But for her, it would be hard to enjoy it, because tonight, her mind was swimming with thoughts. Tonight, she was lost to the storm.

♥♡♥

In the morning, when Rose awoke, she found Peter's big green eyes gazing warmly at her. "Good morning, my love. And how are we this fine day?"

This was a little game of theirs that had developed over the course of their marriage. "Oh Peter," she had almost completely forgotten her troubles in her sleep. "I must say, I'm well, but feeling rather…" she sighed dramatically, "aching." She smiled.

"I know just how you feel." Peter inched across what little space of linen divided them and wrapped both arms around her neck and kissed her.

"Peter!" she squealed, pressing herself against him…_oh_.

"Mmmm?" he leaned in and…

When Peter stepped out into the bright sunshine that only comes around at eleven o' clock or so, he did so with a smile spread across his face and a twinkle in his eye. "Had a good morning, Dré?" he asked his First Mate and original Lost Boy.

Dré looked up and smiled that inescapable smile of his, "I did, sir…but not as good as yours, judging by that look on your face." He laughed at his own jest.

Peter leaned over the wheel of his ship and said, "Well naturally," with a smirk of his own. He looked out and took notice of how Aiden was fervently studying the maps he'd provided. This, for some unknown reason, made Peter feel uncertain, nervous, and altogether unpleasant. Instantly, his morning had been ruined. Now, Peter had always prided himself on his conscientiousness, his bravery, and above all, his suavity. But right now, he was feeling rather sloppy, rather cowardly (though he'd never admit it), and also rather clumsy. "I'll be back." He said as he stepped down towards his chart-man. "Master Aiden, what have you found?"

"Not much, to be honest, Pete." Aiden looked so strange in this light: his black hair seemed as though it would eventually soak up all the sun; his spectacles made him appear older; his expression articulated incredulousness. "If you could just tell me _where_ exactly we ought to be looking for your Shadow, I could get us a bearing."

"Very well, Aiden, I shall get you a general location. But in order to do that, I'm going to need Amínah." Peter turned on his heel, his gaudy red coat whipping about him, and made his way down to one of the deepest recesses of the ship: the rum cellar. Why Amínah had chosen here to make her home, no one could say – least of all, Peter – but it didn't really matter right now, because he needed – that – Shadow. "Amínah?" He called, and listened intently. There was nothing but the sound of the dirty, empty rum racks. Then…

"Yes, Pe-tah?" Her voice sounded as though it were traveling from many miles off, striving just to reach his ears.

"I need your help." He didn't like asking for it, especially because he felt he was already deep in her debt. "I need to know, Amínah," he hesitated. "Where will I find my Shadow?"

She looked grimly at him. "Pe-tah, only you can answer dis. Your Shadow be da wild part of you, Pe-tah: it is what gives you your spirit. It is your only notion of youth…"

"I know."

"Den tink, Pe-tah. If you was _completely_ wild, where would you den go?"

Peter thought for a long while in the darkness and the silence of the rum cellar. His mind churned as if the entire ocean had compacted itself within his brain and was now in a maelstrom. "Well…I'd head for…the Royal Islands."

Amínah smiled, "Good, Pe-tah, you've just made your own bearing."

He flopped down onto a crate. "What?"

"You've decided where your Shadow is headed." She lit a tiny fire in a jar, "Now all you 'ave to do is follow 'im."

Peter was stuck on this: he'd directed his Shadow? This was too confusing. "Thank you Amínah. The Royal Islands it is." He stood and made haste to Aiden on deck. He found him charting several different paths with a compass. "Oi! Aiden! We're heading for the Royal Islands!"

The look on Aiden's face was precious – like an excited puppy dog; Aiden, it seemed, had just decided this voyage was worth it after all. He pulled another map out from under the others and quickly gauged a path, shouted the bearing to Dré who was at the wheel, who relayed it to the rest of the crew. Peter took the wheel and looked out at the ocean with a look of newfound determination. What he failed to notice was Rose, standing at the very end of the ship-head, holding on only by one of the ropes dangling nearby.

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reviews would be much appreciated, as usual.

love, annie


	3. Chapter Two

Two

It was hot, despite the early morning. The sun had started peeking above the horizon about half an hour ago. Rose was sitting on the edge of the ship-head wearing only a white shift because of the heat. She drew her arm across her forehead, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated there. She was all alone, and she preferred it that way – she had risen early this morning just for that purpose. She stood and reveled in the feel of wind and sea spray on her face, as well as in what it felt like to be on the waves, rocking up and down. She felt more at ease with herself on a boat, though she couldn't fathom why. After all, she'd never been on a boat before, not ever in her life. Yet somehow, someway, this felt so natural – this progression from land to sea. It felt right.

♥♡♥

"Pe-tah," Amínah nudged Peter on the shoulder. "I tink it would be in yur best interest to speak wit yur wife."

Peter did not look behind him when he answered. He only continued to hold fast to the wheel. "And why might that be, Amínah?" The heat was unbearable: he was wearing naught but his trousers and hat.

"Because, she be lonely." Amínah's tone spoke much more than her words. "And if yu're not careful? She be fallin' in _love_ wit sometink else." Now, Amínah sounded sly.

Peter, becoming defensive, asked, "Who?"

"Just you watch, Pe-tah."

Peter watched. Peter watched Rose for the next few days as if his life depended on it. She was social, to be sure, but he couldn't see what Amínah was talking about. She didn't flirt. She didn't assume relations with anyone. She only spent an increasingly growing amount of time on her own. She would come to bed late. She would leave bed early. And he could always find her as close to the water as possible. No harm, it would seem. On the contrary, it was wonderful, because they would be out at sea for a few months. Then again, maybe it would be longer than even that.

♥♡♥

It happened on a hot, sunny day: there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the ocean just seemed to go on forever. Aiden was busy shouting bearings and orders around, most of which was repeated even more loudly by Dré because that was his job – to repeat things. Or, as Rose had always enjoyed telling people, it was in Dré's job description to be a parrot.

Rose didn't like Dré; she wasn't entirely sure why, she just knew she didn't like him. Peter had insisted that he was loyal enough despite his mischievous streak, but Rose just couldn't believe that. Perhaps it had something to do with how he had tricked once, that day in Pirate Cove, or maybe it was just his cunning, impish demeanor. Whatever it was, it spoke volumes to Rose, and Rose alone. For instance, today, Rose was sitting on the rail of the ship, enjoying the way the waves rolled her up and down, up and down, up and down, up and do…_DOWN_! "Hey, what the hell?" Rose looked up from where she had crashed on the deck. Dré stood above her, chest heaving and a glare clearly visible on his face. "What do you think you're doing?" she shouted.

"Saving my Captain's _beautiful_ wife from an untimely death." The emphasis on the word 'beautiful;' was not to glorify it, but to soil it; to make it seem tarnished and ugly. "One more heave like that and you would've been hurled into the sea." He crossed his arms, preventing himself from helping her up.

"I wouldn't have minded so much," She said as she rearranged her shift and gown.

"That's because you only ever think of yourself before others – you don't care what happens to others if something happens to you."

Rose looked at him, and hated the look of sincerity on his face. He didn't care about her, he cared about Peter. "It's hard to care _for_ others if you never care for yourself." And with that, she marched away and into Peter's cabin for a rest. She mocked Dré, mouthing his words to herself as a makeshift lullaby, hating him more and more with every word. She soon fell fast asleep between the rocking of the ship and the gratification brought on by her mockery. It was only a few hours of sleep for her though, because soon, she was interrupted….

_BANG!_ Rose awoke with a start to the sounds of gunfire and swordplay – she mulled it over in her head for a few moments, deciding that it was probably some pirate game Peter had started out of boredom – being on the sea all the time seemed to make him just a tad bit jittery. So, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillows, but was suddenly shaken by something much larger than a wave: cannon fire. And it wasn't this ship's cannons – the ship had _been hit_. Which had to mean there was another ship right near the Starchaser. Which _had_ to mean that Peter and his crew were actually in combat. Right now. For real.

Rose shot up from her position and made to get out of bed, but she wasn't nearly quick enough because only seconds later, the door to the cabin was kicked in and two men with shaggy beards and bulky muscles settled their eyes on her. Smirks appeared on their ugly faces and they stumbled toward her, tattooed arms outstretched with fingers grasping. Rose screamed and grabbed the nearest potential weapon (a bed warming pan), and rammed it _smack_ into one of the men's faces, sending him crashing to the wooden floor. The second man spared only a glance at his comrade's body before turning back to Rose with an angry leer. He hurdled forward in an attempt to capture her, but she lunged over him, hitting him on the back of the head and knocking him out as well. Satisfied with this, she reached in the drawer by the bed and pulled from it a shiny, unused pistol.

Having cocked the gun, she hid it in her bodice, and took a running start onto the deck only to find total chaos: it was men against Lost Boys, and of course, leading them was Peter, who was entangled in a battle of his own with a man only slightly taller than him. Rose, no longer being the most intelligent of creatures, could only stare in wonder at the pirate battle before her – this shouldn't have felt quite like a game, but somehow, it did. Only when she found herself being lifted from the ground and swinging in the air did she finally react, mainly by pounding her fists into the man carrying her.

The man laughed a hardy cackle and shouted over the noise of clashing metal and the firing of arms, "I wouldn't be doing that if I were you, missy!" She screamed as she passed over open water and speeding cannonballs. "I might drop you down into the depths, and something tells me you wouldn't like that!"

Her scream ended hoarsely as she crashed onto the unfamiliar deck of the enemy ship, curling into a tight ball – a heap of white dress, brown hair and slight tremors. She was too traumatized to look up or at anything at all. By the time she could focus again, the skirmish had ended and Peter's ship was nowhere in sight. When she dared to move from her ball of false security, she was greeted by scattered chuckles from across the deck, and then by a tan, worn-looking hand in her face: it was turned palm-up, fingers spread, as if in offering. She just stared at it, then up the arm it was attached to, and she stopped at the leather-covered shoulder because she didn't think she dared to know any more about this person.

"Well, are you going to take my hand or not?" A suave, tainted voice asked her. It sounded as sun-drenched as it's owner, and perhaps a little bit drunk.

Rose reached up and grasped the man's hand without hesitation, and without looking at his face. She retained a blank stare into the direction she assumed would have led her eyes to Peter's ship.

"That a girl, up ya' go!" he was cheerful, whoever he was. "I'm Captain Teagúan, by the way, and I believe I owe you an apology?"

This forced her to look at his face: Captain Teagúan was handsome, to say the least, even if it was in his own weird way. His skin resembled the color of coffee, and his hair was dark and dreaded, little charms and beads jingling when he moved in the slightest; he was wearing a large, black, leather coat, though it was nothing like Peter's red coat. It lacked the playful pompousness of the red coat.

"Do you now?" she asked sarcastically. It wasn't the proper thing to say in this situation, but then again, she hadn't yet collected her wits.

Captain Teagúan cracked a smile, revealing a few golden teeth as well as a hint of rum. "That I do. I would like to offer my most humble and sincere apologies to you, m'lady, for it seems that when my men kidnapped you, it gave you quite a scare!" he doffed his tri-corner, exposing a few more dangles as well as a purple scarf tied tightly around his head.

Rose sniffed, "Imagine that." She was quickly regaining her sharp tongue. She thought about the position she was in, and then responded. "I accept your apology, Captain Teagúan…."

"Please, I beg of you miss," he said with a teasingly furrowed brow, "call me Teague."

She raised her own delicate brows and his smile widened, becoming a feral grin. "Well," she thought back to the time she'd spent on Hook's ship, "what do you want with me?"

"Want?" Teague's voice cracked.

"You must have _some_ reason for taking me aboard." She said, worry beginning to drip between her words as if they were leaking.

"Oh, and I do," he said, lifting his heavily bejeweled index finger. He swaggered forward, "What reason does a pirate such as meself _usually have_ for bringin' a woman such as yourself aboard his ship?" He waited while Rose contemplated. When no reply came forth, he said, "You're a beautiful girl, missy. What's your name?"

Suddenly reaching an understanding, she began to fear for her life – she couldn't give this man her real name…then again, she _ought_ to give him her real name. She hadn't used it since her first time in Neverland. "Alle," she said, backing away from Captain Teagúan. "My name is Alle. Short for Alison."

"Is it now?" Teague cocked his head. "How interesting. Gents!" he shouted, attracting the attention of his crew, "could two of you kindly escort mistress Alle to my cabin? An extra ten percent of me plunder goes out to ya' if ya' don't harm her."

Alle began her screeching tirade once again as she was pulled, ankles dragging across the deck, to Captain Teague's cabin. She sat on the bed and cried, holding her face, wondering what she'd gotten herself into….

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A/n: I apologize profusely to all who waited for this since it took so long, but I've been wearing writer's block like a chain around my neck, so, it finally broke. Also, extra special thanks to Sailor Usagi Chiba for her encouragement. It really helps me when I know people are interested. love, annie. 


	4. Chapter Three

Three

_Back and forth…back and forth…back and…_when Alle awoke, she realized a few things: firstly, she had a terrible headache that wouldn't seem to go away. Secondly, that she hadn't had a bad dream: she really had been captured, and was now in danger. Thirdly, she was very hungry, and even more than hungry, thirsty, and she didn't think she had it in her to go out and ask for food and drink. On the other hand, she didn't want to come off as meek and mild, because that might give Teagúan the impression that she was under his jurisdiction.

Swaying under the pressure of her headache and the swell of the sea, Alle brought both legs around to the edge of the bed and touched her toes to the dry wood below. Sighing, she stood up and pulled her skirts in as much order as was obtainable and stepped out of the cabin and into the sunshine. She stumbled with the first real wave of the boat. A few burly men took notice of her, and one even whispered a question to another, but this one simply shook his head and went back to his business; his comrade followed suit.

The air was damp and salty, and Alle inhaled it deeply as she made her way up to the ship's wheel to see if she could find Teagúan. She succeeded, for there he was in his full glory, steering the ship and staring almost lovingly out to sea. He turned and smiled when he heard Alle's footsteps, his smile glinting with flashes of barbaric gold.

"Young mistress Alle, how good it is to see you."

"Charmed, I'm sure," she said lowly.

Teagúan's smile broadened. "What is it that you want, little girl?" he asked.

"I was wondering," she began, giving him a thorough once-over, and noticing a small, silvery glint upon his chest. He moved, and it disappeared, so she continued, "If you had anything in the way of sustenance on your ship."

"That I do." Teagúan called over a sailor and directed him to take his place at the wheel. He then extended a festooned hand to Alle, "I think it best if you take my hand, m'lady. You don't seem to have garnered your sea-wits yet."

"Excuse me?"

Teagúan smiled, "I saw you stumbling, just now."

Alle's face burned with embarrassment and she violently took the captain's hand; he led her down the stairs and then through a set of swinging doors, down several more flights of rickety wooden stairs, and then into what looked to be a rum cellar: barrels were roped tightly to posts, crates were covered with canvas and tied together, and the racks were screwed to the ship's walls. Teagúan handed her an onion-shaped bottle and a mottled piece of bread.

"Cheers," he said, raising his own bottle.

Alle lifted the drink to her lips, and winced as the liquid burned her throat – it was bitter and sweet at the same time; fruity, yet unsavory. Teagúan seemed to thrive on it. Then, just as she went to stand, she was knocked backward by some oncoming wave.

"See? You stumble." He said.

"You stumble too!" she said, brandishing the drink at him.

He threw her a look of incredulity, and with his dark brows furrowed, he said, "I don't stumble. I _swagger_."

"Well, excuse me." Alle said, tipping the glass once more and taking in a mouthful of bread. She'd had much better, but then again, she'd also had much worse. "This drink," she said, taking another swig despite herself, "It's awful."

Teagúan sat down beside her and wrapped an arm loosely around her shoulders. "Welcome to piracy, my darling." And with that, he clinked their bottles together and took another mouthful. Alle stared at the stuff, swishing it around in the bottle before downing the rest.

♥♡♥

Peter gripped his red hair in his shaking hands as he paced his cabin. "What am I going to do, what am I going to do, what am I going to _do_?" he asked himself. "She could be _anywhere _by now!"

"You're right, Pete," said Dré. He hated how confusing this all was: on the one hand, he was happy, because that idiotic girl was gone. On the other hand, his best friend was losing his _mind_ over her. What was the big deal, anyway? She was a diva at best, and Peter could have anyone he wanted…. "I don't understand, Pete. Why was she so special to you?"

Peter stopped his pacing and looked up with an expression Dré had never seen him wear. "What was special about her?" Peter's voice was quiet, low, but full of frustration, anger, and surprise: it was as if he expected all of Neverland to share the same bond with her that he did. "This," he said, thrusting his left hand in Dré's face, "is what is so special about her."

Dré's heart dropped for a moment, and his guts churned when he saw the glittering golden band on Peter's finger. Small twinkling, green inscriptions appeared around it, and he felt himself shudder. "I…I thought you'd only gotten married, Peter. I – I didn't know."

"Nobody did." Peter said, grimacing as his loss began to truly sink in. He'd bound himself to Rose. And she to him. And now they were apart for the first time in a long time – he would have to find her. Amínah would know what to do….

"So, what are you going to do, Pete?" Dré's voice brought Peter back down to earth.

"We continue our search for my Shadow." His voice was firm, and he pushed the tears away as best he could.

"But, Pete…"

"I'm not much good to her if I've a million years on her, Dré." And with that, Peter left to go talk to Amínah. He found her in the cellar, as usual, half asleep. "Amínah," he prodded.

"Yes, Pe-tah?" she sounded lazy and deeply saddened.

"Am I doing the right thing?"

A few moments full of silent thought, followed by, "Yes, Pe-tah. You be doing de right ting. Ur Shadow is ur youth. Without it…"

"Yes, I know. Every ten years, I know." You see, Peter's shadow was his source of immortality – it was the very definition of youth: playfulness, innocence, and untamed curiosity – the latter was probably its reason for taking off in the first place. And without it, Peter would age another year once every decade. It sounds like an easy life, but not when he was obligated to continue living forever. For Peter had a secret, one so deep that even he had yet to discover it….

♥♡♥

And so, the days began to pass. A week. Two weeks…a month. And soon, a year went by. A year that Peter spent searching for his Shadow; a year that Alle spent living on Captain Teagúan's ship, pirating to earn her living and mutual respect, and before long, she had begun to forget about Peter – she had only this faint reminder buried deep within the back of her mind that there was a reason why she could not be with Captain Teagúan. This nagging feeling within her that scolded and shamed her every time she ever had such a thought as to even kiss the charming captain.

And as for Peter, he endured another year of torture.

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A/n: Big thank you to all who review -- you guys are spurirng me on to finish the story. I'm no where close to done, so keep it up!

luv you guys. annie


	5. Chapter Four

Four: Years Two-Ten

The sun was beating down, as usual, heating everything down to the wooden planks underfoot, making it increasingly difficult to walk without sandals. Alle had acknowledged this fact during their last pillage, and had made off with several things, including a beautiful pair of Gypsian sandals.

_Let me count the things…_ she thought, smiling as she indulged in the memory: _five oils, some cotton sheets, a new dress, and my fair share of the gold_…_I could get used to this_. She began to comb her hair with a pretty jade comb she'd picked up on a trip through Porcélla. She frowned at the way her hair seemed fried by the heat; in the past year, it had become blonde with being sun-drenched every day, and her skin had darkened beautifully.

She flinched suddenly, as she felt a strong, equally dark and sun-drenched hand gently stroke her hair. She smiled, pushing her face into it, "Hello, Captain Teagúan. And how are you, this fine afternoon?"

"Fine?" he asked, removing his hand. "Hot, is more or less like it…but aside from having heat stroke bearing down upon me, I'm just peachy, love." He sounded like he'd just woken up, and maybe that he'd broken into a new bottle of rum.

Alle looked up at this unclaimable prize that was Captain Teagúan; the sun was hidden behind the wide brim of his hat, casting an ironically angelic glow upon him. Teagúan was anything _but_ angelic. She longed to brush her dirt-encrusted nails upon the likely scarred and tattooed skin beneath all the leather, the linen, and the finery.

"What are you up to?" He asked, catching her stare.

"Tell me, Teagúan," she yanked at a bit of cherry-colored lace that was tied in a rough knot around his wrist, "Where did this come from?"

"This little trinket?" he asked, fondling the faded fabric. "It's a trophy piece…I took it from a Mosaian widow's dress on my way out."

"Had an evening engagement, I take it?" she smiled.

"You have no idea." This was their secret language; their little way of communicating. It was something subtle, shared only between the two of them – subtle, and yet noticed by all onboard Teagúan's ship. No one else called him simply, "Teagúan." It was either "Captain Teagúan" or "Teague." There was something remarkable going on here, and yet, the circumstance seemed hopelessly veiled. "It seems you've acquired a few trophies yourself, dearie," said Teagúan in reference to the many rings necklaces and clothes she'd pilfered.

"None of it's trophy treasure, at least, not like yours is, Teague." She began picking at the comb, shaking it out over the ship's rail. She then stood, entrapped by Teagúan's dark, leather clad arms. She smiled pleasantly, not unaware of the nagging sensation in her chest – this nasty, little, annoying tug at her heart. It was like, having shoulder angels: it just never went _away_.

Teagúan seized the moment and leaned in for his expected (and still yet to be had) kiss, but as usual, Alle pulled out of his grasp at the last minute. He cocked his head and creased his brow, his face begging for an explanation. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just can't."

o0o

With every day that passed, Alle grew closer to the sea. It was like, once you got over how vast the damn thing was, you were forced to love it, and there seemed to be no way out. Today, she was sitting on the yardarms, clinging to the rigging with one hand and shading her eyes with the other. She wasn't quite sure where they were, but it did seem to be getting hotter every day, and she wouldn't be surprised if by this time tomorrow, the ship became implanted in a dry, cracked ocean floor.

Below, she could hear the sounds of men arguing over whether or not the tact line was in satisfactory shape or not. When it appeared that the argument was going to get out of hand and that Captain Teagúan was either too drunk or too deeply embedded in his usual alcohol-induced slumber, she took it upon herself to slide easily down the ropes and onto the deck to investigate.

"What's troubling you gents?" she asked, readjusting Teagúan's hat, which had recently found a home atop her blonde tresses. When the men explained their situation, she made some noncommittal noise of agreement, then turned to the tallest, burliest man and said, "I agree with you, Bartlett; it's in perfect shape."

When the other man began to protest, another man from the crowd that had formed put in, "Go on, Alf. You know her word's as good as the Captain's round here." Alle cringed at the bitterness of his words. The crew didn't like having to answer to a teenage girl. They didn't like that someone had managed to form a bond with their captain. Most of all, they didn't like that she knew things about their captain that they didn't.

She and Teagúan often indulged in a game they'd made up, trying to guess who the crew would mutineer against first, and right now, she was ready to add at least ten more points to her side of the chart.

She strolled into the cabin to find Teagúan asleep, his hardened body buried beneath mountains of linen, cotton, and silk sheets, all of various degrees of whiteness.

"Just where I thought I'd find you," she said aloud. She pulled the hat off and set it on the bolted stand, removed her chemise and her heavy skirts, and settled down next to him in her shift. "How _can_ you sleep in all of that?" she asked. It was rhetorical, but the fact seemed to have slipped the dozing captain's notice.

"Easy, love: I'm not sleeping." Two dark, chocolate eyes gazed up at her from beneath a million clouds of white. Alle, always one for details, began mentally tracing the thick coat of black kohl around Teagúan's eyes.

"Oh. Well, I'm about ready for a nap." She burrowed beneath the top sheet, leaving the rest to Teague.

"I'm sure you are," he mumbled into the mismatched pillows.

"And what's _that _supposed to mean?" she asked, flopping onto her own set of feather-stuffed cushions.

"That's all you ever do in this bed, is sleep." Teagúan turned to face her, an unreadable look in his kohl-framed eyes. It was somewhere between disappointment and curiosity.

"I can't help it if I'm not attracted to rum and sun-stroke, Teagúan," she smiled with her eyes.

He slid a few inches closer to her, "Oh, but you are." The heat from his body was radiating towards her, and she couldn't help but feel the truth darkening her cheeks. "You just refuse to allow yourself any proper indulgences. All this pillaging, yet, no pleasure with your treasure, aye, love?" His face was so close to hers that she could practically taste the rum on his breath. Over this last year, it had become familiar and comforting.

"I'm sorry, but I just…I can't. I know that's all I ever say to you, but…"

Teagúan smiled, clearly not offended. "It's all right. _I've_ only ever pursued _you_, you know that; in my defense, you're a very beautiful girl. Quite the strumpet."

Alle noticed Teagúan eyeing one of her rings: she'd forgotten where or how she'd come to have it, but it was special to her. It's golden sheen and emerald splendor offered her more than just a satisfying memory of a successful raid…there was something behind all of that. "I won't be one of your trophy girls, Teagúan."

She then turned away, abandoning him for sleepy sanctuary.

o0o

Time went on in this fashion: every day, something drove Teagúan onward to find more swag, even when it came to the point where he was searching for a hiding place. They traveled through storms, through snow, through rain, through howling winds and blistering heat. Alle was soon becoming a learned pirate, and by her third year aboard the ship, she had sailed on every sea in Neverland, at least twice over.

So, on a short trip to port while in Indæ, Teagúan came to Alle with a proposition. "It seems you've become traveled in every sea I can come up with, so, I was thinking you would be able to, er, _mark_ an occasion such as this with a little addition to your lovely frame."

"And what might that be, Captain Teagúan?" she asked, completely unaware of the hints being dropped.

"Well, tradition states that whenever a pirate – and if you weren't one before, you certainly are one now – has traveled all the Neverseas more than once each, they are to receive a tattoo commemorating it. So, off we go…" he grabbed hold of her arm and began to lead her away into the center of the city.

"What?" she screeched. "Oh no, not me, mm-mm, NOPE!" she tried desperately to untangle herself from Teagúan's grasp, unsuccessful of course. They agued in the streets for a few minutes, both yelling simultaneously and getting nowhere fast. Then, something happened to Alle that hadn't happened in a long time: she was given a choice.

"Look," said Teagúan, puffing for breath, "I'll admit that when it comes to tradition, I often take what I want and leave the rest. So I'll play fair for once in me life: here's what you can and can't do."

Alle stood up straight and crossed her arms, ignoring the stares they were getting from local passer-by.

"You _can _get the tattoo, and be proud of it, and have something to show for your troubles or at least a reminder when your memory goes to shit. You _can't_, however, go back on that ship without that tattoo and expect respect, civility, and anything other than derogatory remarks." There was a moment of silence in which Alle was making her decision, when Teagúan cut in. "You're a brave girl, Alle, and don't think I don't know it. I've seen you do a million things that were a million times more dangerous than getting some ink hammered into your skin. Don't think I won't lose a little respect of my own for you." Those must have been the magic words, because Alle began walking back toward the middle of the city without a word to Teague. But he just smiled and said, "That' a girl!"

When they reached the parlor, it was something bordering the line of "shady." The curtains were dark and there was a thick cloud of smoke that smelled of sickeningly sweet perfume. The muffled sounds of other customers receiving their own marks of glory were wafting into the room above them, creating a deepening sense of fear in Alle. She could only just remember that on earth, tattoos were relatively painless depending on who was doing them and who was receiving them. But here, it was done the old fashioned way, and she'd been told it hurt much worse.

They walked up to a scantily clad woman who sat behind a makeshift desk of silk and cushions, and when she asked what services they'd be needing, Teagúan smiled courteously, dropping his hat and replied, "We'll be needing a tattoo: the sailor's sparrow, if you please."

"Name?" she asked in very inflected English.

"It's for the young lady, Alle."

"Is she under your crew, sir?"

"Yes, write it under Captain Teagúan."

Alle turned sharply to look at two large men who'd appeared to lead her away into a curtained room, hidden from view. She was going to have to do this all alone.

Teagúan sat back in one of the plush couches, plugged his ears, and fell asleep.

o0o

It ached for days and days and days. Weeks had passed before the pain finally wore off. She was currently one of the only people on board the ship because the rest had gone off on a raid – she was still a tiny bit sore, so Teagúan had instructed her against her wishes that she was to stay here. This was much to the pleasure of the men left behind to mind the boat, because that gave them some authority over her if she should try and escape. Not that she would ever give them the satisfaction.

She was fingering the little emerald-encrusted ring when she felt sudden weight upon the boat, and heard Teagúan's orders to weigh anchor and make way for their stashing port. She jammed the ring back on her finger just as the door opened, and in walked Teagúan, a smile dazzling across his tan face. He tossed his hat to the side, ran a hand through his dark dreads and splayed out over the bed, narrowly missing Alle's feet.

"I take it things went well, then?"

"They did indeed," he said. Then, he began rummaging around his big leather coat and pulled from it a shiny, golden locket. He thrust the trinket towards Alle, and slurred, "For you, my strumpet. Put in it whatever's closest to your heart." He knew his attempts at wooing her were always to be fruitless, but it didn't stop him from trying.

"It's…wonderful." And it was: little green and pink inlays took the shape of a rose on the front of it, and as she brushed the little engravings with her pinky, she thought, _Rose…rose…_but whatever it was wouldn't come to her. She then noticed Teagúan's hand poking her, asking silently for attention. "Yes?"

"The locket," he started, slowly sitting up, "there is a way to close it and without ever being able to open it again, save for using a password."

"And what word might that be, Teague?" she asked, holding it up to the light by the chain.

"I don't know," he said, "that's for you to decide. Be careful though: make sure it's not something you would slip and say frequently. You don't want it to open spontaneously and spill whatever secrets you might be keeping."

It was sound advice, and definitely counsel she would adhere to.

o0o

When Alle learned the Pirate's Prayer, it was a bone-chilling night out at sea: they were sailing for some unknown reason in the frozen ocean at the most northern peak of the Neverseas. Four years had come to pass, and so it had become seven years that Alle had spent onboard Teagúan's ship. By this time, her memory of Peter, of London, of her past – any faint trickle – was almost completely gone.

She'd awoken in the night, put on a big fur coat over her shift, and stepped out on deck. She must have been awfully quiet, because Teagúan, who was standing at the far end of the ship, didn't notice her. She hadn't meant to be so quiet, but now that she had gone unnoticed, something inside her told her to keep it that way. She was glad she did, because when she got close enough to the lonesome captain, it sounded as though he was singing…

_"Starlight, starbright: first star I lay my eyes on tonight in the darkened sky…"_

It was beautiful…it seemed to mimic the cold beauty of the weather around them. Teagúan, still unaware of Alle's presence, continued his song as he looked up to the bright heavens above. An arouraborealis seemed to have begun.

"_I understand I've wasted several wishes in life before, _

_But this time I beg you, Sea Goddess, grant me just two more: _

_I know I've never felt a thing in my heart my whole life, _

_But to say it doesn't beat for Alle would be a lie."_

This first verse caught Alle so off guard that she nearly dropped to her knees right there, but she wanted to hear the rest, so she silenced herself and strengthened her legs, bracing herself against the ship's rail. She listened:

"_Moonbeams catch dreams: sew back together the seams of my sanity, lost out at sea…_

_Sea Goddess, her personality is like your reign _

_Over the Neverseas – it's oh so wild and untamed. _

_I know there must be another who holds her heart in hand, _

_And I cannot help but wonder who is this other man…._

_Sunrise, green light – the flash that signifies that a lost soul has returned to life."_

The song finished, and it rang in her ears, and the question lingered in her mind…why couldn't she be with Teagúan? What was this feeling that pulled her away from him every time he tried to court her…?

She let out an involuntary sigh, alerting Teague to her presence. He turned around, and several looks flashed through his eyes: first anger, then a kind of sorrow, quickly replaced with fear. "What did you hear?" he asked. There was an edge to his voice that had never been directed at her before.

Alle stuttered a moment before she said, "All of it."

Teagúan closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "You weren't meant to hear that. It was not meant for your ears."

"It sounded like you were…praying. So if that was the case, who are you to say whether or not it was for me to hear?"

Teagúan strode over to her, and the aurora seemed to have shifted into his eyes. "That's what I love about you, Alle."

"What," she asked, "that I'm so forgiving, that I'm not upset?"

"No," there was a smile present in his voice. "That you're so unbelievably naïve." She lunged at him, but he caught her in his arms, refusing to let go until she just crumpled lifelessly against his chest. It was starting to snow. After a minute or two, he asked, "Have you put anything in your locket yet?"

"No," she said against his leather coat. "I'm saving it for something special."

"Ah," he said.

After an even longer period of time, Alle asked, "Did you mean that?"

"Every word," he said.

The Pirate's prayer, as it turned out, consisted of three simple verses; it was a configuration of words that could be sung in almost any melody the singer chose. But you had to sing, that was the rule. It was a way of communicating with the Sea Goddess, whoever she was.

o0o

Alle was now bordering her tenth year onboard the ship, and she'd had many great experiences; she'd plundered, pillaged, and after a few more tattoos and some sun-in, she'd gained some real respect from Teagúan's hard-assed crew. But of course, as Alle's life tended to do, tragedy struck just as things got to be a little comfortable.

It had been a great day: they'd successfully ransacked two merchant ships, both heavily laden with spices, gold, and all manner of textiles. They were now hauling quite a bit of swag, heading for their port, when there was a great shaking of the ship and a loud booming began.

_Other_ pirates.

Alle, the same girl who ten years ago would have fled into another room below deck, grabbed her sword and pistol and shot out into the midst of everything. She fought beside Teagúan for a while before heading – per Teagúan's orders – to the rum cellar to find his set of double pistols. Why he'd hidden them in the rum cellar was anybody's guess, and as anybody's guess didn't count right this moment, Alle didn't really care. She dodged cannon balls as she turned the cellar over in search for Teagúan's pistols. Under crates, over barrels, and inside larger varieties of bottles, but the damn things were nowhere to be found…until of course, she thought of the strangest, most unthinkable place ever.

Alle dashed across the floor to one of the cannons, and reached into it, half expecting something to bite her. Then, her hand bumped up against the butt of a gun, and she was able to pull out a set of gleaming, cherrywood guns.

She ran up the stairs and onto the deck, and called out, "Teagúan!"

He turned at the sound of his name, and what happened next seemed to be in slow motion – too big for Alle to really comprehend. A loud gunshot was fired, and the bullet ripped through Teagúan's right shoulder.

Alle screamed and rushed to her captain as she saw him go down. It didn't look to be a fatal wound, but it certainly needed tending to. She hollered out some orders and then dragged Teagúan into his cabin, putting him to bed and setting about getting his injuries healed. The bullet had gone clean through, so at least she wouldn't have to deal with _that_….

By afternoon the next day, the ship was repaired. Alle woke up to find Teagúan asleep, but in no manner was he peaceful. He would twitch, and moan in pain, and bare his teeth during slumber. When it did not cease by nightfall, Alle called for the ship to be taken to the nearest port.

They arrived in Löndinüm, Álbion, and Alle hurried off in search of a good doctor. When one was found, they rushed to the ship and Alle led the man to Teagúan, who at this point was unconscious. The doctor took several hours to inspect the wound, then another hour to interrogate Alle about it. When he was finally done, he came to her with grim news: it was a simple shoulder wound, so otherwise would have been healed by now…unfortunately, the bullet had been poisoned.

Alle began to tear up and begged for a way to save her captain, but the doctor had none. He left without expecting pay, and Alle cried hard. She cried even harder when the realization broke upon her that she'd have to tell the crew.

o0o

For the first two weeks after Teagúan found out about his ailment, he holed up in his cabin, not allowing anyone – even Alle – to come in until nightfall. When he'd been told about the poison, he just sighed in frustration and flopped back onto his pillows.

"The doctor said it's not contagious, so I can keep you company," Alle added.

Teagúan smiled, flashing his few golden teeth amongst two rows of white.

Alle spent those two weeks bringing food to him, dressing his wounds with clean bandages, and taking his place at the head of the ship, giving orders and taking criticism. She was being blamed for Teagúan's wound. Everyone on the ship seemed to have a different opinion of _why_ it was her fault, but no one was in disagreement that it _was_ her fault, and that was all that mattered. The only person who said otherwise – but no one could hear him – was Captain Teagúan. He blamed himself for not being more alert to his surroundings.

After two weeks, Teagúan, it seemed, might recover. He began to walk about the ship, getting in some sun and some fresh, salty sea air. He would even stand at the wheel from time to time. He couldn't yet steer again, but it felt good to him simply to hold onto it. He looked incredibly exposed though, because with his wound and his aching body, he couldn't bare the weight of his heavy leather coat, and even the soft, cotton chemise itched his skin, so he wore naught but trousers and bandaging.

However, by Friday night, his health took another ill turn and the poison took over again. On Saturday, he called for Alle to come to bed early. "Captain Teagúan wants to speak with you about _matters of utmost importance_." Said the man who was sent for her. He sounded as though he wanted to be the one to be spoken to about matters of utmost importance.

Alle left the wheel in the charge of Bartlett, the man whom she'd agreed with on that day so long ago. She felt her stomach drop as the night wind flew through her blonde hair, spattering her with salt and sea spray. She pushed open the door to the cabin, and saw Teagúan lying down flat on his back, not even attempting to sit. He'd lost his care for humility, and had accepted the fact that he could no longer even sit proudly. "What was it you wanted to speak to me about, captain?"

"Alle, you never call me that." He smiled.

"I've been calling you that for the last two weeks."

"I know, I've been doing my best to forget. Not all that hard in such a state as I am." He said, ruefully, but with a smile on his face. After Alle took a seat next to him on the bed, he spoke. "Open the drawer. There's a paper in there for you. I've already signed it, just in case things don't go…" he took a moment to breathe, "according to plan."

Alle searched the drawer, cluttered with junk, and found a piece of parchment that had been folded into thirds. She unfolded it and read the carefully written letters, her eyes widening more and more as she read. So _this_ was what he'd been writing for the last two weeks! "Teagúan, you want me to…"

"Yes, Alle. I want you to take my place. I've spent ten years with you; I can trust you. I know it's not much, but as inheritance to the position, I'm giving you my hat, my coat, and my set of pistols."

"It's more than I could have expected," she said.

"The ship, also belongs to you now. The treasure, on the other hand…"

"I know," she said, trying to save him some breath, "the treasure belongs to everyone in equal shares."

"Right."

There was a moment of sheer silence before Alle broke into quiet tears, "But Teagúan, you're not going to die! You _can't_!" she leaned down, and careful not to hurt him, she hugged him as tightly as she dared.

"Everybody dies sometime, it's just, in Neverland, you can never be sure when it's going to happen." He smiled. "I've been lurking these seas for over two hundred years, love. It's time someone else held the glory." It was hard to believe, because Captain Teagúan was so youthful, but all things considered, it was probably true.

"Teagúan, I don't want you to die!" Alle felt him shift beneath her, groaning because her hot, salty tears stung his now delicate skin.

"I know, I know," he said, making an effort to reach up with his hand to rub her back. This was not how he'd wanted his last vision of Alle to be. So, being that he was _still_ Captain Teagúan, no matter how sick, he decided to change things. "Alle, I brought you here for another reason, as well."

"Yes?" her tear-stained face became curious.

"Do you remember that night, years ago, when you heard my Prayer?"

"Of course I remember, that was the night you taught it to me."

"I'm not asking much," he said, "because I know you belong to someone else, Alle. I'm no simpleton, merely a pirate. But, as a dying wish, I'd ask of you – if you could find it in your heart to give it to me – for just a kiss. Just one kiss."

Alle thought it over in her head: she'd never fully understood why she'd strayed away from her attraction to Teagúan, but now, in this cruel turn of events, she understood a little bit more. She loved Teagúan, as a _friend_. Any other types of feelings she had for him were strictly sexual, due probably to his wit and his charm. But she really thought of him as a good friend. So, she decided that yes, she could do him this one favor.

She gulped, nodded, and leaned in. It was one of the most meaningful kisses of her long-lived life. And against that nagging feeling in her mind, in her heart, that little kiss became something much more. She gave Teagúan the best night a dying pirate could ask for….

When she awoke beside her dead captain the next day, Alle cried more than she'd ever thought she could. Bartlett and Alf came in to see what was up, and even old, crotchety Alf took pity upon the young girl. After they wrapped up Teagúan's body in soft linens and took him out to the head of the ship, they dragged Alle out of the cabin, because she had refused to leave. They were afraid that if she went mad with grief, they'd never know what their captain's last words and will had been.

After setting Alle upon a crate to sit and calm herself, Bartlett went to search the room, and found the will that carried Teagúan's command for Alle to become captain of the ship.

It had begun to rain when he came back looking pale, even against flashes of lightning. The crew crowded around him, waiting for him to read off the will. It stated that all the treasure would belong to the crew in equal possession, the crew were free to leave the next time the ship made port, and that "I leave my captainship to Alle, along with this ship, my set of pistols, my hat, my coat, and the possession of the rum." Bartlett read, expecting a near riot.

He was close.

There was an outbreak of whispering and grumbling, and hateful stares at the girl before them. She had accomplished what none of them could have done, save only in their dreams. And if anyone found out about the previous night, it would look so wrong.

Bartlett, in Alle's defense, pointed out, "It bears the Captain's seal and signature, not to mention that it's dated as finished a week ago." He did like the poor girl because not only had she agreed with him – rightfully, of course – but she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, most of the time. He wasn't superstitious and he didn't believe in discriminating against women as being pirates.

After the grumbling had turned into mumblings of forced agreement, Bartlett took Alle's hand and led her through the rain to the head of the ship, at the wheel above everyone else. He placed Teagúan's leather belt and sash around her waist, making sure that both pistols were at her side. He then placed the heavy, black leather coat on her as well as the hat.

"My Captain," he said, bowing out and away from her.

She took hold of the wheel, and in that split second beneath the rain and the wind, she understood what she was supposed to do. "Bartlett," she called out over the storm. "I'm making you my first mate." He stopped dead, and turned to look at her with gratitude in his eyes.

"We make for the port of the Isle de Býssaile." Her voice had suddenly gained a tone of authority, surprising much of the crew. They found themselves preparing to follow her heading. When Alle went to retire to the cabin and take this all in, she turned to Bartlett and asked, "What is it that we are to do, since Teagúan died at sea?"

"Simple," he said, "On our way to port, we should stop at an island, a deserted one. There, we will burn his body, and sprinkle the ashes into the sea from the ship."

"Alright. But make sure it's a windy day when we sprinkle the ashes: I don't want him trapped in one spot."

o0o

They reached the tropical region surrounding the Isle de Býssaile within a few days and made a short stop at one of the smaller, neighboring islands. There, the crew built a wooden frame, and after placing Teagúan on it, they lit a fire, all giving their regards and saying their good-byes at once. Alle let a few tears fall over the fire before turning her head away.

When the body was completely cremated, two men went aboard the ship and retrieved a small, iron chest. They scooped up Teagúan's ashes as respectfully as possible, and poured them into the chest. Once it was locked, the chest and its key were given to Alle, to be set loose whenever she saw fit. It was a beautiful sunny day, but even the warm breeze couldn't comfort her.

They spent a few days propelling the boat manually because there was no wind. Alle took advantage of this fact, because over the last few days, she'd gotten an idea. She was holed up in the cabin, writing down words on a piece of parchment:

_Sorrow, Despair, Loss,_ _Grief..._

The list of sad words stretched on for a while, until suddenly, the idea came to her, and she wrote down,

_Friendship_

_But I can't use that in English, it will slip all the time_, she thought. So, she wracked her brains for the Latin she knew she'd learned and came up with, _Amicitiai – friendship._ She then reached under one of the holes beneath the bed, and pulled up the chest and the key. She opened the chest, and grimaced at the sight: a mixture of grey, black, and white dust. All that remained of her good friend, Captain Teagúan. She scooped a small amount of ash into the locket he'd given her what felt like ages ago, and shut it, locking it with the word, _friendship_.

She placed the locket round her neck, the chest and key back under the bed, and fell asleep.

o0o

When they reached the port at the Isle de Býssaile, things had changed quite a bit. The day before had been as perfectly breezy as a pirate could hope for, so they had scattered Teagúan's ashes across the sun-dappled turquoise ocean.

Most of the crew had jumped ship, and would find ways to the secret port to claim their shares of the treasure. Alle had other matters pressing down on her: what was one supposed to do with a ship? She had to change it a little – it was need of some maintenance by now, and she would have to find a new crew – she and Bartlett simply weren't going to cut it.

She was sitting at a bar, rum in hand, with Bartlett at the time, when he said to her, "It's a funny coincidence that you chose Isle de Býssaile to make port after Captain Teague died."

"Why is that?" she asked despondently. She had yet to get over this mountain of grief.

"He was born here."

"What?"

"Yes, his father was from Býssaile as well, and his mother was from Hispaña. She was a runaway queen in the Hispañus Royal Court. She fled to Býssaile to escape her arranged marriage, and met Teagúan's father."

"Do you think they still live here?"

"His father, yes, his mother no. His mother probably died by now, but old Joaquin – that's Teague's father – is most definitely alive: if you're as laid back as him, it's easy to live forever." Bartlett took another gulp of his ale.

♥♡♥

When Peter awoke on the first day of his tenth year without a Shadow, he looked in the mirror, and was startled: there was no major change, but it was obvious that for the first time in a very long, long, long time, he had aged another year. His crimson hair had grown, and had acquired some blond-ish highlights. His skin had managed to turn a very subtle shade just darker than what it had been the day before. And there was a single line beginning to form above his brow.

He was worried.

* * *

A/n: first of all, thank you to all who review. It's what keeps this story alive. Second of all, just a little trivia for you all, any time you see a made-up word, I probably created it using a borrowed form of its latin root. For instace, the word, "Býssaile" comes from the latin word for "Cotton", so basically, the name of that place is the "Island of Cotton."

yeah, I know. I'm a geek.

xo, annie


	6. Chapter Five

Hello all, I'm sorry this took sooooooooooooooo long to update! But here is another chapter, FINALLY :)

* * *

Five: The Beat Goes On

Alle spent most of her share of the treasure on altercations and elaborations to the ship that was left in her possession. She had the stained and worn sails replaced with new, white canvas; the rigging was all restored with new rope and bindings. The wood was replenished, particularly the used and abused yardarms. Everything from the crow's nest down to the captain's cabin was redone. And by the time it was finished, she was down to the ropes in pay.

"While the ship certainly looks magnificent, Captain, what are going to do with it?" asked Bartlett upon looking at the final product.

"We're going to find a crew, Bartlett," she said sternly, squinting against the sun and wind.

"And then?" he inquired.

She remained silent. Alle was scheming – Bartlett decided to trust her; what else could he do? "I need you to find this crew. You have until tomorrow morning."

"Um, alright," he said, thinking of the numerous places he could set up at.

"In the meantime, I have business to attend to." With that, she strode off down the dock and onto the sunny, dirty streets of Býssaile. She had been exploring the night before, and knew precisely where she was going: she turned corners, avoided venders, and finally came to a halt at a small, outdoor market stall. It was heavily laden with handmade rugs and strains of beads and all sorts of curios. "Joaquin?" she asked, gingerly calling out the old man's name.

"Yes?" he asked gently, his West-Indies accent soothing and placid.

"It's Alle. I've come back."

There was a short pause before he said, "I know. Come here, child." She stepped forward, pushing back curtains of beads and rugs and lanterns to find a dark man sitting with both feet resting on a crate, arms folded behind his head, stretched out like a cat in the sun. Holes in his tent sent rays of sunshine hurtling through the darkness at them. "Have a seat," he patted a wooden box beside him.

Alle pulled it up and sat. "I can't tell you how sorry I am, Joaquin…" she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"Please, child, it wasn't yur fault. I am sad, but I 'ave lost children before. I will grieve, and I will be fine. What is it you _really_ came for?"

It wasn't insulting, just disarming. "I…Joaquin, I need advice, if that's not too much to ask."

"Never," he smiled.

Something about that smile put Alle at ease; it warmed her and comforted her. "What should I do? I…I have the ship; I'll probably have a crew by tomorrow. But…what is it I'm supposed to _do_?"

Joaquin stood up slowly, stretched then began to rummage around in the tent, muttering to himself in his native tongue, cursing occasionally when he stubbed a toe or something. Eventually, he came out with something thick rolled up in his hands. He sat back down, this time planting his bare feet firmly on the ground. He looked at Alle, his dark dreaded hair and kohl-lined eyes reminiscent of his son's. He splayed whatever it was out on the crate between them, and said, "Do what you know Teagúan would have wanted you to do: be a pirate."

She looked down and saw that it was a map; it was very elegant, and had aged beautifully, the edges burnt and stained.

"This is no ordinary map, Captain Alle."

She shivered at the use of the formality.

"It can take you anywhere you want to go…_if_ you know 'ow to use it correctly."

"How do I do that?" she asked.

"You'll have to figure that out for yourself."

Peter was pacing up and down the deck, nervous and upset. He felt…old, despite the fact he was only now twenty. Too many years. Too many years had gone by without Rose. He could only wonder what she was going through or where she was, or what she was doing…who she was with. But still he had to admit; nothing could be done about it yet.

Peter peered into the mirror, wincing and squinting and choking on his reflection. He donned his coat and his hat, and stepped out the cabin door. He found Aiden, tracing lines across the maps – some with green and some with purple ink. The green was a steady line, a certain, steadfast course; the purple lines spider-webbed all across the maps, to all the places Rose could be.

Peter tried to ignore those, for fear of temptation.

"So, where are we headed?" Peter asked, feeling ever so depressed.

Aiden just looked at him, sad and unassuming, because he knew the pain Peter was feeling – all of Neverland would know the pain Peter was feeling, if he didn't get his Shadow back soon. "We're to begin at Isle de Býssaile, because your Shadow loves the warm weather, and then…um, well…"

"Follow the Shadow's trajectory, Aiden," said Amínah, appearing from thin air.

"How am I supposed to do that Amínah? I don't know where it's headed."

Amínah tossed a handful of fish bones onto Aiden's map charting Peter's Shadow. There were two fin bones, a backbone, and a few smaller pieces that no one could really identify. "You see dese? Day aren't just fish bones; dese bones can tell you where to look, if you use dem rightly. Simply blow on dem, tinking of what it is you want, and toss them onto your map."

"But how will they tell me where to look?"

"De fin bones tell you where _not_ to look: de left one is danger, de right one means nothing to do wit what you are looking for. De backbone is de path you are to take, and de double tailbone is your destination." She explained.

"X marks the spot," added Peter in reference to the tailbone. "Thank you, Amínah, I've been waiting so long for some form of help."

"All you 'ad to do, Pe-tah, was ask." She smiled warmly.

Aiden cast the bones over the map, and realized that instead of heading for Isle de Býssaile, they should head for the edge of the Eastern Sea.

"Why is my Shadow wandering aimlessly?" Peter asked. "I would have thought it would make for land."

"Perhaps, your Shadow is looking for something," and with that, Amínah left to return to her dark hideaway inside the ship.

It was very, very cold here at the eastern edge. Alle had taken Joaquin's advice and learned how to use the map. It had sent her looking for a cache of treasure hidden in the icy hills of Isle de Aŕctica, buried long ago by a fellow pirate, now long dead. What Captain Alle failed to notice, was the extra shadow on her ship, seemingly belonging to no one.

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A/n: sorry for the shortness, but hey -- reviews new chapter (sooner, this time).

xo, annie


	7. Chapter Six

Six: And Eat It Too

The Shadow would follow Alle around, going about its business without causing harm, but it was distracting to all who noticed it.

It wasn't until several years later, one day in the bright tropical moonlight, that Alle noticed the Shadow. It raced about the cabin, waking her from her sleep, knocking things over to get her attention and finally, when it stood still, Alle realized what was going on here; it wasn't her shadow, it wasn't a crew member's shadow. It was Peter's Shadow.

_Peter_, she thought reverently, then she thought a little more worriedly, until it dawned on her: _I was kidnapped! From Peter! Oh my God…_. She quickly roused the crew and barked instructions. She went to her map and thought about Peter…she needed to find him and bring his Shadow back…among other things.

When Alle returned sleepily to her cabin, she noticed that Peter's Shadow was sitting atop one of the affixed shelves, cross-legged.

"Goodnight then," she said, turning out the light.

Complaints rolled in over the weeks, the months; how the Shadow distracted and disturbed the men. Alle often took it upon herself to remind them why they were there and where they were going, and that they could leave if they wanted…and of course, everyone knew that at this point, leaving the crew was a bad decision. Alle, as captain, had led them through years of wealth and prosperity.

One day, Bartlett called Alle to the helm, pointed out to the horizon, and asked, "That ship – what kind is it? It's not flying any colors."

Alle looked through her telescope, for a very long time. Her heart had almost stopped; she'd know that ship _anywhere_. Just then, Peter's Shadow joined her, spastic as ever because it knew, too. Alle pawed the air around her, trying to make the Shadow calm down. "I know, I know, I know!" she said.

The Shadow took a seat on the rail.

"Bartlett," said Alle, "I want to be in line with that ship within minutes. And stow the guns; I have absolutely no intention to fight."

Peter was in his cabin when it happened; he'd been examining the heart-shaped scar on his chest, wondering if what he'd done was a mistake…his commitment, his yearning for a ship, the restoration of his heart….

Peter flew forward into the wall as the ship lurched: either somebody had dropped anchor, or…no, he didn't want to think about that. He threw on his jacket and hat, and stormed outside to see what had happened. The entire crew was standing stalk-still, heads all turned in one direction. Their ship was still moving, but was lined up with another; a large, black vessel with bright sails and no ship head was tethered and grappled alongside Peter's.

"Hope we're not interrupting anything," came a voice from somewhere above the canvas. "I've come to negotiate with an old friend." A woman – a young woman who looked startlingly familiar – appeared in front of Peter, a jar under her arm.

Peter stepped forward, bristling beneath the sun and his own caution. "And who might this old friend be, m'lady?"

"Why, I do believe it is you, Captain Pan." With a low bow, the girl winked beneath her lightened hair. She was clearly the captain of her own crew; she wore every sign that pointed to it. Her long, navy-black coat and her beaten, weatherworn tri-corner, not to mention the absurd amount of finery gave her away: she was a pirate captain.

"Me? Have we me–" Peter stopped in the middle of his sentence. He looked at her. Closely. Her eyes were glittering, her hair – though full of highlights – was a cool burnt coffee. Peter stumbled over the words that were all rushing to get out of his mouth at once; too many thoughts raced inside his brain as he made connections with what he was seeing. "R-Rose? Is it…?"

"Hello, Peter." Alle brought out the jar, and Peter noticed how though at first it seemed as nothing was in it, there was a large patch of darkness, even thought the sun was shining. "I found something you've lost." She handed the jar to Peter, who reached inside and pulled out…

"My Shadow!" He set it to the ground and immediately it reattached itself to its master. "But…how, why?"

"Sometimes," said Alle, suddenly looking very grim, "there are no reasons." She fingered a golden locket that hung about her neck.

"Captain," called a member of the Alle's crew, "We'll be losing the wind soon if we don't get on our own way!"

Alle turned to her crew and called for a man called Bartlett. "New plan: I'm to stay aboard this ship, and you are to follow. Act as Captain in my stead – _do not_ disappoint me."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" And with that, Bartlett cut the lines that bound the two ships, and could be heard barking orders to the rest.

Peter, in shock, crawled away into his cabin, where Alle followed him.

"Peter?" she asked, voice softened and body language relaxed. "I'm sorry if…."

"No." Peter looked up at her, and here and now, in this gentle light, it was obvious how the years had changed him. Peter's cheekbones were higher, narrower; his nose more straight, and his hair longer and redder.

Peter found himself surprised by the changes in his wife: her skin had darkened, no doubt an effect of many hours spent in some tropical sun; her hair was shorter and there were blonde streaks throughout, again, a quality of being sun-drenched: a few small charms hung in her hair, tied in, no doubt.

"I'm…I'm glad you found me. I'm glad you brought my Shadow."

"You're…" Alle hesitated," You're not…_mad_, are you?"

Peter looked at her, and for a second, Alle was happy to hear his old temper. "Mad? _Of course I'm mad_! You had a ship in your possession for who knows how many years and you never came looking for me!"

"I…. I'd forgotten."

Peter looked down at the wood floor and whispered, "I see."

"But not entirely, never entirely." Alle pulled her coat aside and pushed her clothing down, exposing a patch of hip that Peter was oh too familiar with. Only now, something was different. A tattoo: a heart, with two pistols crossing behind it, and a beautiful letter "P" inside.

"What's this?" he asked, letting his fingers skim it gently.

"Peter Pan…or, Pistol Pete, if you like." She sat down beside him, and leaned into him; he was warm and comforting, no matter how upset he was. He wrapped his arms around her and they just collapsed onto the bed, wallowing in the slow process of falling back into place with one another.

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A/n: oh my god, finally the writer's block is gone! anyway, I'm incredibly sorry to keep you waiting. reviews please, and I hope you haven't forgotten!


	8. Chapter Seven

Six: It Never Takes Long

In the weeks that followed Alle's return, Peter slowly began to fall back into himself; he was less serious and more playful. He indulged in music and games and food and sex. He appeared human again.

Eventually, Bartlett gave report to Alle that the crew was becoming restless; they wanted treasure, adventure, excitement.

"Let them have it," she'd said. "I will stay with Peter." She handed her captainship to Bartlett, much to his surprise. He promised not to forget her generosity and kindness, and she promised to forgive him if he did. No one knew the temptation of forgetfulness better than Alle.

o0o

They say time heals all wounds. Well, maybe that's true, but sometimes wounds never meant that much to begin with. I've lived my life (the beginning of which I can't even remember) lightheartedly, humorously, excitingly, differently. I've fallen in love and I've broken hearts – I ripped my own out of my chest once…only to return it when an amazing young woman proved to me that love does in fact exist.

They say time heals all wounds. But it doesn't heal curiosity.

It was several years after Rose…Alle's return when at last, I could stand it no longer. Our children were young: London was a mature four years old and Tori a mere two. I loved them to death, just as I loved their mother. But something had been nagging at the edges of my mind ever since I'd aged; I had noticed that as I aged, so did my world around me. The seas seemed to calm, to grow old. The sky began to decay, if only by a few years; its luminous blue paled and the clouds became wispier. It was as if Neverland was speaking to me. It was telling me that there was something I needed to know.

One night, I was standing on a distant beach, embracing the strong but gentle salty breeze, a cooling salve against my skin. The sand between my toes molded itself to me as I moved. The waves that once so violently crashed against the shore now climbed softly over the sand, caressing it. My world was growing older.

"Something be troubling you, Pe-tah?" It was Amínah.

"No." I didn't turn around to face her, though she had startled me.

"Den, what it is it my son?" She came to stand beside me and stare out at the same ocean, the same sky, the same aging world.

I turned to look into her dark eyes and said, "There is something I need to know."

.:Fini:.


End file.
